Last month, right after being discharged from the hospital, my family took Isaac and I on a cabin getaway up north. 🌲
We rested, reconnected and explored. On the last day, my dad and I kayaked to the other side of the lake. At the mouth of the stream was a thick canopy of Eastern Hemlock trees, their boughs dipping into the water and brushing our heads as we paddled. My dad began plucking cones here and there, dropping them by the handful into his boat. “Laura! You’ll need more of these once you’re back to making again!” As he gathered, I cried. I felt so far from being able to create. But, seeing my dad so joyfully and feverishly foraging for cones just for me filled me with a bit of gladness and a glimmer of hope. 🌲
We floated there for a good long while and then kayaked back, our laps covered in twigs and cones and needles. On the shore, my sister and I combed through the cones, setting aside our favorites, some to keep and some to be immortalized in sterling silver. 🌲
Soon, these will become adornments. A tiny silver hemlock cone to serve as a reminder of the hope found in every circumstance, and the joy found in the smallest of things.